


Of Aquatics and Werwolves

by EnsignNona



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek volunteers at the SPCA, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Manatee!Stiles, Merperson!Stiles, Stiles works at a marine animal rescue, Vegetarian!Stiles, as in he has a manatee tail, asexual!Stiles, human/animal hybrid creatures are known, merfolk are called aquatics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnsignNona/pseuds/EnsignNona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles moves to Florida after college to work at the country's largest Marine Animal Rescue.  Derek volunteers at the SPCA because he's an ass with no job and no real commitments.  They meet at the grocery store and eventually fluffy romance happens.  Stiles sometimes has a tail.  Derek is sometimes a wolf.</p><p>--I'm currently re reading this and I'll see what I can do to continue it.--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by Kierja~!
> 
> Updated and revised: 4.10.2015

 

 

Stiles works at the largest marine animal rescue in the country.  He moved to Florida to work there directly after graduating university.  He'd had his pick of employers as people with his type of lineage were in high demand, but Manatee County Marine Society was the only place for him. He'd been accepted outright with his skillset. Anyone would be crazy not to hire him.

Stiles is an aquatic. (Merman and Mermaid really aren’t used anymore as they're pretty insensitive to gender non-binary folk.) His aquatic half is a manatee - which is _awesome_. He doesn’t swim all that quickly, and his turning radius is a logistical nightmare, but there’s nothing better than swimming with an aggregate of manatees, lazing around in sun-warmed water away from boaters. 

On his first day, it's a disappointment to find out that he'll spend the whole week just learning the ins and outs of the rescue’s operation. He’ll probably only be able to see his beloved Sea Cows from behind the glass wall of their rather generous enclosure. Aside from that, he's also exited to see the jellyfish recently rescued from badly contaminated waters. About two thirds will be released in the coming weeks. The rest will be kept to study for a while yet. Now may be his only chance to see them en masse.

Stiles is given his security badge at the end of the day and is told which entrance to use.  The main entrance is for visitors to the facility only. The two side doors, one leading to the tanks and the other leading to offices, have key swipes and a round of security officers that rotate between all three entrances. The rescue also functions as an aquarium, open to the public.  It’s not ideal, but it brings in most of the money they need to keep the place open.

He drives home to his new apartment, still cluttered with unpacked boxes, flops on the ratty old couch he found in a thrift shop the weekend before, and pulls out his phone to call his dad.  “Are you okay?” are the first words out of his father’s mouth.

“Fine,” Stiles groans.  His muscles ache from the long day, and his skin is itching to knit together into a tail, but otherwise he's solid. He tells the elder Stilinski as much.

“Did you get to see them?” John inquires next. There's the distinct rustle of plastic bags on the other end of the line and Stiles is immediately suspicious of his father's dinner plans. 

“Only for, like, two minutes during the tour of facilities. They really need help though. Ever since the Crystal River Power Plant shut down, the manatees have been moving around, trying to find warmer water, and they always wind up going through waters where there are boaters, and they get hurt. There are fifteen manatees at the rescue, dad. Fifteen,” Stiles is out of breath, his voice having crescendoed and sped up while talking.

“Do you think you can really help them?” His dad asks, and Stiles has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling. John Stilinski was a progressive man (he lives in California, obviously), but not progressive enough to not worry his son could be taken advantage of and too far away for dad to do anything about it. 

“Do you think I can’t?”

“Of course not!  You’re doing a good thing out there.  I just meant that that’s a lot of work, and you’ve never worked in the water for that long before.  You mentioned they’ve only had human experts before this.  There won’t be anyone to show you the ropes.”

“I can do this, dad.  You don’t need to worry so much about me.  It’s your heart you should really be worried about.  How’s your diet going?” And Stiles let's that bomb drop in his dad's lap, easily segueing away from the tenser argument. Their's a pregnant pause, and he tastes the hint of victory at catching his old man out. 

“It’s, uh.  It’s okay I guess.  Nothing very notable.”

“Uh huh.  So that means you didn’t get a bacon cheeseburger from Marion’s for lunch today?”

“I swear you must be psychic sometimes, kid.”

“Nah, Marion just knows how to operate a telephone.  He texted me,” Stiles grins through the phone line. 

“Think I can get him for disturbing the peace?”

“Not a chance, pops.  And remember, I have eyes and ears everywhere in that town.  But on that note, I have to go to bed.  Early day tomorrow.  They’re going to show me how to put together the food I’ll be giving to my charges,”  his jaw cracks dangerously in a yawn between sentences as if to emphasis his point.

“Sounds thrilling.  Love you, son.  Be safe.  Don’t die.”

“Chinese is still junk food even if you have broccoli and sliced carrots. You too, dad.  Bye.”

“Damn it, Bye.”

A deep sigh escapes Stile's chest as he rolls over onto his side, a small smile playing on his lips. Phone calls between him and the Sheriff hadn’t always been as long.  When Stiles first went away to college, the conversations were stilted, barely more than a check in to reassure themselves that the other was still alive.  But with Stiles being away nine months out of the year, they learned to talk about _feelings_.  It started out awkward as hell.  They didn’t think they had much to talk about, until one day Stiles asked his dad how he was doing and John told him his doctor was concerned about his blood pressure.  Stiles spent the week after badgering med students and researching in the library until he had enough information to email his dad a list of dietary restrictions, and damn near wrote a two-thousand five-hundred word essay on why he’d better not cheat on the diet, MLA format and all. 

When he woke up in the morning, Stiles was already running late.  No time for a bath, even if he did want to test out the tub in the apartment.  He'd lucked out in apartments when he moved here. The building was for aquatics, the population of them in Florida high enough to demand living spaces catered to them in costal towns.  His tub was longer and wider than standard, to allow for all manner of tails and fins. Stiles looks longingly at it, brushing his teeth at an angle he knows is ridiculous.  Baths will have to be night-time things, then, if this becomes a pattern.

Stiles yanks on his pants and badge, tossing microfiber towels into his bag as he went.  The work day’s itinerary is unpredictable enough that he’d rather be safe than stuck on the floor of an empty hallway with his tail.  Before locking the door, he turns back around to grab an extra pair of shorts too. Be prepared, over-prepared, and when not, suck it up and pray for luck - it's the Stilinski way.

Upon arrival to the rescue, Stiles is ushered to a sterile kitchen area that, unsurprisingly, smells like fish and salt water.  The range of residents in the facility is quite unprecedented, but all have to get fed twice, even three, times a day.  For the first three hours of his shift Stiles is chatting up a pair grad students working on their thesis as he cubes and guts various fish species.  It's pleasing to find out from one of them that the fish stock comes from a local source which practices a strict fishing style aimed at preserving populations.  Large fisheries are often the cause of the larger species the facility houses, especially the dolphins. Finally the carnivores get taken care of between the three of them.  The food is labeled and staff filters in and out with a wave or bark a 'hello' as they get their charges' breakfasts. His manatees' diet is simpler, mostly consisting of cabbages and lettuce.  Doing it by himself it takes forty-five minutes to properly wash the vegetables. Manatees, the gentle creatures they are, are vegetarian.  So is Stiles.  It’s in his nature.

“We’re done here.  You can take that to the manatees.  Spend the day with them.  We need them to feel comfortable with you if this is going to work out,” his supervisor Anna, with her braided dreads that smell faintly like rosemary, instructs.  Stiles couldn’t be more thrilled. Anna just laughs as the feed crew make shooing noises.  He flees after putting his buckets and bag on a push cart.

Twisting his way through the winding concrete hallways, he waves and smiles despite not knowing anyone. He recognizes a couple of faces from earlier in the day, but neither of them have a second to spare in introductions just yet.  Stiles is too pumped to see his sea cows, anyway. He pushes up a matted ramp to the top of the manatee enclosure.  The wavy, distorted shapes of a gaggle of children can be seen through water and glass.  Stiles sees them vying for prim spots against the glass as their guide must have informed them it’s about to be feeding time.

He drops in the vegetation before making his way to a smaller area blocked from view to drop his pants and slip into the water.

When they can finally see him, the children freak out.  They wave frantically at him and he bursts into a grin a mile wide.  This is without a doubt the best job Stiles has ever had.  Soon, the manatees notice his presence.  He'll admit he’s a bit small for a manatee. The Mothers must think he’s a calf, and one starts to nudge him to the surface.  Whether she’s pushing him to air or food, he can’t be sure, but he doesn’t try to fight her.  He laughs as he surfaces.

Stiles can’t breathe under water like most of the other people on his apartment floor.  Even though he’s aquatic, he is still one hundred percent mammalian.  He does have an inhumanly high lung capacity, though, so it all works out. He can stay under water longer than his human friends and coworkers. It'd made him a great life-guard back in California. 

Stiles lays his palm on the body of the Momma that pushed him to the surface, and rubs her skin softly as she nudges against him.  She’s grey and mottled by the light filtering through the water, and he can see foot long scars on her tail from a propeller.  Manatees are one of very few animals that are neither predator nor prey.  Their biggest threats are stupid humans and their boats cutting through waterways.

The manatee slowly curves away and down into the water, meaning to show Stiles something. He follows when she waits for him.  She does the last thing Stiles ever expected:  she nudges the glass in front of the smallest child with its nose pressed to the glass.  Stiles lets himself drift over to the glass and stops himself by pressing his palm next to his new friend.  The child presses her hand in the same place as his and smiles shyly at him.  He responds with a thumbs up and a smile. 

Stiles is distracted by a splash up at the surface.  It’s Anna jumping into the enclosure in full scuba gear.  Stiles is glad he can feel the currents of water against his skin, created by everything in the enormous tank around him.  He’s glad he doesn’t need to be weighed down by oxygen tanks.  Anna has something in her hands.  She shows him they’re laminated notecards with names on them and flips to one with the name 'Marta' on it, and points to the momma manatee by his side.

Stiles points up, indicating he needs air, and Anna nods to show her comprehension.  When Stiles breeches the surface, he takes in a lungful of air, and notices a couple of bristly noses doing the same.  He looks over at Anna when she surfaces as well.

“It’s good to see Marta likes you.  We’ve been worried about her in particular.  When it was called in that she was hurt, they didn’t mention she had a calf with her, or that he was hurt too.  His injuries were worse than hers, and he died.  She’s been depressed ever since.  We thought introducing her to the others would help, but she’s still been listless,” Anna elaborates. Most of the manatees have swam over to her, brushing their sides and bumping their noses against her suit. Unconsciously she rubs them all down, and Stiles cant help but grin.

“Well that explains it,” Stiles remarks, “I think she kind of adopted me.”

“Well then, I guess you’re stuck here.  There’s no way she’ll let you leave,” Anna chuckles as she checks the scar tissue over another Momma's left eye.

“She’s gonna have to,” Stiles jokes, “I have to go grocery shopping to stock my apartment.  I’ll probably starve otherwise.”

“Alrighty then.  Go say goodbye, and then get outta here.  I’ll introduce you to the rest of the gang tomorrow.  The grocers here don’t stay open very late.”

“Anna, you are a saint!” Stiles is cut off from saying anything else by a wave from Anna.  She tells him to get lost while she checks the rest of her charges.  He’s giving her a headache with all his enthusiasm.

Stiles dives back into the water to find Marta.  Once he’s located her, he approaches and nudges her affectionately.  As if she knows what he’s about to do, she moves to plead with him to stay.  He pats her once more before going back to the place he entered the enclosure and levers himself out of the water. 

He pulls a plush towel from his bag before getting his clothes ready.  He would really like to spend as little time naked as is possible.  When everything is ready, he begins toweling his tail off.  Stiles can feel a tingle in the bones of his legs as they start to un-fuse.  The second he has fully formed legs again, Stiles is pulling the pants up and over his long legs and hips.  He throws everything he doesn’t need into his bag as he rips on a t-shirt and finishes towel drying his hair as he walks to his powder blue jeep parked outside the enclosure's entrance.

Anna had given him the name of a local grocer with really fresh produce while kicking him out, so he tapped the address of the shop into his phone and let the hollow sounding voice direct him through unfamiliar streets.  When he pulls into the parking lot, it is thankfully empty.  There are only a few other cars, and it affords him the option of parking right in front of the door.  He steps out into the chill evening, skin still slightly damp from his day in the water.

As he steps through the door, a bell dings softly and the only cashier working gives him a nod. Stiles makes his way first to the produce section to choose the best of his favorite fruits and veggies.  As he enters the aisle, he sees a flash of tanned skin and dark hair and pronounced muscle round the corner, suddenly out of sight.  After a half-second pause, Stiles moves on with his berries and peaches, celery and greens, headed toward the cereal aisle to see if they have the kind he likes with the dried cranberries.  He sees the same flash of skin and hair, but a bit of jawline as well this time, rounding another corner, but not without a slight pause, a stutter in gait.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. This is such a small store that it's not hard to run into the same person a couple times. He tries to not think more of it. It's just one of those things that happens occasionally.   

Stiles sees the man again as he’s finding the textured vegetable proteins, and – SCORE! – they have the Morningstar sausages he likes for breakfast.  The man stands still for a few seconds before moving on this time.  Stiles looks over his cart to see if he’s got everything, and nope.  He didn’t grab dish soap or hand soap or even toilet paper.  All he has is food.  Typical.  Stiles scans his way back over the aisles, looking for cleaning supplies and personal hygiene.

When he’s in line to check out, right behind tall, dark, and tan, the man turns toward him.  “You smell like fresh water,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah,” Stiles replies, “I work at the marine animal rescue.  And I’m an aquatic.”

“All the aquatics here are salt water,” The man is starting to lose points of attractiveness.  Obviously there are fresh water aquatics.  Stiles is standing right in front of him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m a manatee aquatic.  So yes,  there are freshwater aquatics in this town.  Don’t think that just because you’ve never smelled one that we don’t exist.  And how can you smell that anyway?  You part dog or something?”  Stiles normally wouldn’t be so openly rude, but this guy is starting to push his buttons.

“Wolf, actually.  _Not_ that it’s any of your business.  You work with Anna, then?” The man turns the conversation around by questioning Stiles. 

“Yeah.  How’d you know that?” all Stiles can think about is this guy's sarcasm and smirking - what a dick! 

“She lives in my building.  Works with manatees.  Likes dogs.  It works out.”

“Yeah?  Does she puppysit for you?”

“Only when I’m fostering and need to be away for a while,” the guy explains as he lets Stile's jibe roll right off him with a frown.

“Fostering?” The guy just throws curve ball after curve ball. 

“I volunteer at the SPCA and when there are puppies that can’t be spayed or neutered yet, I take some in so they don’t have to spend time in the kennels in the back rooms.  I’m Derek, by the way,” he adds, as if remembering. Who the hell starts a conversation with a stranger without remembering to introduce themselves?

“Stiles.”

“That’s not a name.”

“Yes it is.  It’s my name.  I thought we discussed this.  Just because you’ve never heard or smelled something before, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“No Shit," he turns away abruptly,  "I’m leaving now.”

“Uh, Sir,” The cashier interjects, “You haven’t paid yet.”

“I’m paying now.  Then I’m leaving,” Derek huffs.  It’s cute.  Not that Stiles would say that out loud, to this hulking man’s face.  He’d wind up with a broken bone or two hundred, but that doesn't change how cute it is.

“Sure,” Stiles says instead.  Derek leaves with his groceries while Stiles stares dumbly after. What the hell was that? He's left in a dazed state as the college aged girl rings up his items.  He doesn’t even remember paying.  He drives home and puts everything away.  He can’t stand to have more clutter than there already is in his home.  Thankfully he's able to fumble his way through his bath.  He was right.  The tub is amazing.  He’s never felt less cramped in a bathtub.  The ones he’s used before were made for humans, not manatee tails.  It may be the only part of the night he remembers because the next thing he knows, he’s waking to his alarm blaring at six o’clock in the morning.


	2. Chapter Two

 

Stiles stumbles through his morning routine once again.  He still has extra everything in his bag from the day before, but this time he packs a lunch for himself.  His jeep stutters to life, and just when everything seems like it’s going well enough, it starts to rain.  He didn’t check the weather, didn’t realize it would rain.  It didn’t look like rain yesterday, but everyone’s been telling him Florida weather is unpredictable.  Where he went to college, you could always tell when it was going to rain the next day.  Rain clouds were a slow build.  They stayed grey for a long time before bursting.  It seems that Florida rain clouds jump out of nowhere and drown you before disappearing. 

When he parks by the employee entrance at work it’s still raining, and he has to call Anna.

“Are you running late?” she asks.

“No.  Uh, this is kind of embarrassing.  But, I’m here already.” He hesitates as he speaks.

“Oh.  Forget your badge?” Shit.  He did.  He knew he was forgetting something.

“Now that I think of it, yes.  I did.  But the bigger problem is, it’s kind of raining?”

“Is it?  I can never hear anything in here.  Once there was a hurricane and the only reason I even knew about it was the lights went out for a few minutes before the generators kicked in.” She laughs.  She _laughs_.  Since when are hurricanes funny?  Stiles doesn’t understand Floridians.  Anywhere else in the country and everyone would be scared half to death.

“I mean, it would be fine, but, if I get wet.  The whole tail situation becomes apparent.”

“Oh.  _Ohhhh_.  You didn’t bring a rain poncho, did you?”

“Not even an umbrella or rain boots.  I don’t even think I own rain boots.”

Anna laughs again. “You should probably invest in some.  Flash floods have been known to occur in the good ole sunshine state, and if it storms, the ground will be mud for days.”  It seems like pretty solid advice.  He’ll probably order some online when he gets home.  If he gets home.

“Yeah.  I really should.  But my whole point was, if anyone plans on me getting inside, I need either a poncho or a wheel barrow.”

“A wheel barrow, really?”

“Unless you have someone who can lift a few hundred pounds, that’s the only way to get me anywhere on land with a tail.”

“We don’t have any wheel barrows at our disposure, but hypothetically, if I did know someone who could lift a few hundred pounds, would that work?”  Stiles only grew skeptical.  No one he’d ever met could lift him.  If Anna knew someone, who could, who was at the rescue now, it’d be a Christmas miracle in May.

“If you’re sure he can lift me, then fine.  I’ve got no problem with it.  I’ll be sure to get out and grow my tail before whoever it is gets out here.  Don’t need them seeing what they don’t want to see.”

“You never know, Stiles.”

“Just send them out, Anna.  I’m hanging up now.”

Stiles takes off his pants, stuffs them in his bag, and slides out of the jeep, closing the door when he’s on the ground safely, his bones and skin fusing together, turning grey, gaining mass.  The employee entrance opens suddenly and it startles Stiles, who is still trying to lock his door, but he can’t reach it when he’s sitting on the ground.

“Here, let me help you,” a voice comes from above him.  Stiles looks up and sees a defined jaw line he swears he’s seen before.

“Do I know you?” Stiles wonders out loud.

“We’ve met.  Last night.  You’re the one who works for Anna.”

“Well that’s abundantly clear, as she’s the one who apparently sent you to fetch me.  I still don’t believe you can carry me.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me that just because I’d never experienced something, didn’t mean it didn’t exist?” The man snarks at him.

Stiles gapes.  “Derek?”

“I have to say, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t recognize me.”

“Well last time I saw you, I wasn’t looking up your nose.  If you hadn’t noticed, I’m much shorter right now.”  Stiles really just wants to get inside now.  The rain is starting to set a chill in Stiles’ bones.  Derek looks down at the aquatic at his feet and smiles a dopey smile.

“Up we go then.” Is Stiles’ only warning before he’s being hoisted into the air by this, whatever he is.

“What are you, by the way?  It seems unfair that you know my species but I don’t know yours.”  Stiles asks.

“I told you.  I’m a wolf.  Werewolf.  I turn into a wolf.” Derek explains, as if Stiles is some kind of idiot.

“I’m not stupid, you know.  I know what a werewolf is.  Just, when you said you were a wolf, you didn't really explain.  I don’t know how many types of wolf people there are.”

“Well, you are the one who’s been changing uncontrollably all his life, yet still doesn't keep the necessary equipment in his car.”  Derek condescends.

Stiles huffs out a breath and turns away from Derek as much as he can, trapped in the man’s arms.  Derek carries Stiles all the way to the Privacy Room.  All public buildings are required to have a privacy room for situations like this.  Usually it’s because parents are with children who can’t control their changes yet, but when it comes to aquatics, the change is never controllable.  It’s only mostly preventable.  If they get wet enough though, they can’t stop the change no matter what they do.  The only option then is to dry off whatever non-human appearance they have, and pray they brought spare clothes.

“Why are you even here?” Stiles calls through the door.

“You mean besides saving your ass?” Derek calls right back.

“Yes!  What are you doing at the rescue?  Don’t you have a job?”

“Nope!  I only volunteer at the SPCA.  I live comfortably on money made from royalties and a hefty sum from a discrimination law suit I happened to win.”  Derek sounds smug now.  It kills Stiles a little to know that this man can just show up whenever he wants because he has no predictable responsibilities of his own.

Once Stiles has his land legs back and is fully dressed, Stiles walks into the hallway defiantly, as if he wasn't just carried in bridal style.  Derek pushes himself off the wall where he was leaning, arms crossed and one foot braced against the wall.  The guy probably drives a cool car, like a Camaro.

Stiles breaks the silence first, “So.  What kind of car do you drive?”

“Black Camaro,” Derek responds curtly.  Stiles knew it.  He does a small victory dance in his head, and apparently with his body as well judging by the guffaw heard by Mr. Muscles over there.”

 

When they finally arrive at the kitchen, Anna has already prepared food for the Manatees.  She motions for Stiles to pick the buckets up, and they file out of the room.  Stiles has to play keep away with the buckets to keep Derek from doing the gentlemanly thing and carrying them for him.  Stiles can carry his own buckets of vegetables, thank you very much.  When they begin nearing the enclosure, Anna and Derek go and change into suitable water wear.  Stiles continues on and empties the buckets into the enclosure before going to his secluded area and stripping naked.  He’s already in the water, his elbows propped on the edge of the enormous tank when Anna and Derek emerge.

Marta pops her nose out of the water just as Derek and Anna sit down on the edge, with their feet in the water.  Stiles nudges Marta with his tail and Marta drifts closer to him.

“I think Marta has a new favorite, Anna,” Derek remarks at the show of affection between the two sea creatures.

“Hell yeah she does!” Stiles exclaims.  Marta is his favorite too.

Derek wouldn't say it out loud, but he thinks Stiles and Marta are a cute pair.  She acts like he’s her baby, and he’s happy to let her play mother hen as she starts pushing him to a nice looking head of cabbage.

“Alright, Alright.  I’m going!” Stiles laughs as he swims to the cabbage Marta wants him to eat.  He picks it up and, using his tail to keep himself afloat, tosses the cabbage to Marta instead.  Marta just blows air through her nostrils at him.  All three humanoids in the room laugh and the display.  Derek and Anna slip into the water, and Marta drifts closer to Stiles.  She’s worried about him.  He’s not eating enough.

Stiles gasps.  He’s caught the attention of everyone in the room, Derek especially.

“What is it?” He asks of Stiles.

“Just.  I mean it’s natural.  It happens all the time.  But this is really fast.”

Derek is still confused.  Anna thinks she might know what’s going on.

“You need to explain, Stiles.  I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, you know how if a Hybrid person makes a really deep connection with the animal equivalent of their species, how they become empathetic with them?  Like a familiar?  I can tell what she’s feeling.  She’s worried I’m not eating enough, that I’m going to starve.”

Derek gasps as well now.  It’s shocking, for sure, but not altogether unexpected.  Marta connected with Stiles right away, associating him with the calf she lost, needing to mothering someone again.  Stiles seems to need a mothering figure in his life.  For what reason, Derek doesn’t know, and it’s not his place to ask.  If Stiles wants to tell him, then that’s Stiles’ decision.

“In that case,” Anna begins, “I’ll have a cot put in here, so you can sleep here if you ever need to.”  She may not be a Hybrid person, but Anna does realize how significant this is, for Marta, Stiles, and their ongoing study of Manatees.  They’ve never had someone like Stiles in the program before, so they’ve definitely never had access to a bond like this.  It could speed their studies along exponentially.

“Uh, sure.  That’d be good.” Stiles is at a loss.  He’s not sure what this bond will mean for him going forward.  He’ll spend a lot more time here, working with Marta, helping her heal emotionally.  He’s so happy he can help her in that way.  Everyone’s been worried about her, but what can you do to help a depressed manatee when you don’t know what could make her feel better?

“Stiles,” Anna begins again, “Would it be alright if you helped us study Marta, using your bond?”

“I’m not doing any experiments on her,” Stiles fires back immediately.  Derek likes him a little more for it.  It seems neither of them are fond of animal experiments.

“No, no.  Nothing like that.  Just.  If you’re okay with it, could you keep a log of the progress you two make?”

“Just as long as there’s no funny business.  One wrong step and I’m done.  No second chances.”

“Of course, Stiles.  This is completely up to you.  We’ve just never had an opportunity like this before.  It’s a different point of view and new insights to help us understand them better.”  Stiles doesn’t know what to make of her right now.  Manatees have always been easy for him to understand, but he can interact with them in ways few people can.

Stiles agrees to help Anna and keep a log about the progress Marta makes and how she made it.  He’s still hesitant when it comes to this whole ordeal, but he decides to just go with the flow, and if anything hinky goes on, he’ll get Marta and himself out of there, whatever it takes.

Anna and Derek leave the room to give Stiles and Marta some time to get to know each other a bit better, and Stiles winds up spending the whole day in the water.  The facility is already closed to the public when stiles gets out of the water.  After he’s dry and dressed, Stiles makes his way to the cot that’s been put in for him.  He leaves a couple of his towels on it, and sets a reminder for himself on his phone to bring in a pillow and blanket to keep there as well.

He makes sure to check the weather on his phone before he leaves the building, but it seems the rain stopped hours ago.  Stiles walks through the darkened parking lot, side stepping the bigger puddles before unlocking his car.  He notices a note tucked under his windshield wiper and plucks it from the windshield, reading it only once his door is closed and locked, and he’s checked the back seat.

The note is written in neat block lettering, and states,   
“Had fun with you and Marta today.    
Call me if you ever want to see the animals at the SPCA   
xxx-xxx-xxxx  
-D”

So Derek wants to see him again?  The note doesn’t seem to be romantic in nature, just an offer for a couple acquaintances to get together and look at cute animals, maybe play with them?  It doesn’t matter, Stiles decides.  He wants to see the animals.  Maybe they’ll have bunnies.  And there will definitely be a cute werewolf.

“Will there be rabbits?  
-S” Stiles texts to the number given to him.

“Yes, but I can’t go in the room.  They’re too scared of me.” Derek replies.

“Sucks for you then.  I’ll play with them anyway and tell you how soft they are.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Stiles starts the jeep, and it takes a couple tries to get it just right and the engine rumbles to life.  He drives home with a smile on his face, not forgetting to look out for other people on the road.  Being a sheriff’s kid never really leaves you, even when your dad isn’t really a sheriff anymore.  People still call him Sheriff, and still give him free passes to eat unhealthy food, even though they know Stiles worries.  Most of them have the courtesy to let him know when his dad cheats on his diet, but they’re not willing to just not let him cheat in the first place.

Stiles stumbles into bed without a bath again.  He thinks blearily that he should at least take his shoes and pants off so he doesn’t dirty the sheets more than necessary or get too hot in the night, but he’s asleep before he can really do anything about it.

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't written a fic in a very long time. It's been years. So I'm sorry if this sucks. I currently have the first two chapters written, but I cannot guarantee frequent updates until summer because I am in college and it sucks the life out of me.


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